Dear Roger
by Swimmingly Yours
Summary: Roger receives a letter from the King regarding the Sweating Sickness that he created. His reactions and thoughts. One-shot


A one-shot, of Roald's letter to Roger about going back to Tortall and Roger's reactions… frankly, I think you should read this. I'll be happy if you reviewed, too, but if you don't know how…

*I don't own the characters. I certainly wouldn't want to, either, as they belong to Tamora Pierce, I don't want to own anything that belongs to Tamora Pierce… except for Joren and Thom, whom she both treated so harshly.*

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Letter to Roger

_Dear nephew Roger,_

_Far as you are from Corus, I'm sure that by the time this letter reaches you in Carthak, you would already have heard of the strange fever that had been coursing through the capital these past months. _

_The toll caused by this Sweating Sickness was terrible. Corus lost hundreds in this plague __- you may also have heard that your aunt, Queen Lianne and Jonathan have both suffered from this sickness, but luckily they have both healed. We owe Jonathan's life to Sir Myles of Olau and Page Alan of Trebond, who assisted Myles to cure Jonathan._

_It is my belief that you will know something of the nature of this disease. I believe it is caused by sorcery, by a very strong sorcerer who might have sent it even from another country. It drained healers whenever they tried to battle it, and left the Palace in disarray for months._

_Roger, you are a sorcerer __- probably the most powerful sorcerer living in the eastern lands. I realized that during the Sweating Sickness that the we need someone here, at Court, who knows the ropes and will be able to help out during rough times. I am Gifted, but I have none of the knowledge or power that you possess._

_And because a few of the Pages have the Gift (such as Alan of Trebond), I thought that it might be a good idea to let you teach them something about the sorts of magic they might come across as knights and what to do about it. I'm sire you agree with me that this would also mean that their Gifts would not come to waste._

_Please, I ask of you, in this great time of need, to come back to Corus and help the nation out. I understand that my summons may have disrupted delicate or important studies that you may be doing at the moment, and I apologise, and will try to what I can to help you._

_Sincerely,_

_Roald of Cont_

Roger felt his eyes begin to water just as he finished reading the letter. He coughed once, and put the letter from his uncle aside. It was seventh day of resting in bed - and only his third of being awake since the Sweating Sickness had ended. Months of building up the strength, knowledge and stamina of sending such a disease across the sea had come an gone, leaving him more than just physically weak and exhausted in his bed.

_Well, it's the price that's paid for wanting to take over the throne_, he said to himself. Not for the first time he questioned himself about why he was doing this. Any man would consider himself lucky to have what he had now - titles, estates, close relation to the throne, the most powerful sorcerer on the continent… but for Roger that wasn't enough - he had to be King as well. 

And his ambition was so great he had sent a plague across the ocean and into the capital of the kingdom he wished to take over, in order so that he could kill his cousin and clear the path for himself.

But it didn't work - his cousin wasn't dead. Far from it, it seemed. Why was the Prince so special? Why did the disease kill hundreds of others, but not him?

The answer was at the Court of Tortall. From what the King had said, Sir Myles and Page Alan of Trebond saved Jonathan. Roger knew Sir Myles - he was a trusted advisor to the King, one of the wealthiest men in the realm, and loved to drink, but this Alan was another matter. Roger dimly remembered the Lord of Trebond - a thin man, somewhat quiet, but efficient nonetheless. Why was this Page so important to the regaining of Jonathan's health? How did these two have the power, or the knowledge to save his cousin? Unless this Alan had the Gift? But even so, the Sickness should have drained him, like it did all the other healers who tried to counter it.

His plan didn't work, none of this was making sense, and he was getting a terrible headache. He tried to reach into his Gift to clear his head, but found in his stores nothing. He closed his eyes, wanting to go back to sleep. The maid who had brought him the letter was absolutely terrified of him. It wasn't usual, that such a handsome man fell sick and spent a week in bed, without anyone else knowing what was wrong with him. Roger had written a note for the staff that he did _not_ require a healer before his collapse, knowing that he just needed some rest, and then he would be fine. After his recovery, he would make his way back to Tortall.

Roger allowed himself just one tiny little smile. At least he was going to Corus. It wasn't his mistake that the Sickness wasn't as he planned it, but he would find out how it had gone wrong very soon, when he met this Alan of Trebond.

_Three more days_, he promised himself, _three more days and I will go._ He told himself not to fret - even though he failed this time, there were plenty of chances that were bound to come up. Besides, the Sickness made him feel so good about himself - if he could send something like that all the way from Carthak to Corus, becoming King would be the easiest thing ever.

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Did you like that? A light bulb of inspiration brought me 929 words of what you just read. Now, look down at that submit review button and click it, there's a good child…


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